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ensue from such enactment. He who gives his vote for corrupt purposes, or venal considerations, is a far greater sinner than the individual guilty of a breach of private trust. The latter can inflict but an injury of necessarily limited extent: The former may peril the souls, and ruin the worldly circumstances of millions.

The elector who votes for an advocate of the Corn Laws, or other monopolies, or of unnecessary establishments, sinecures, or unmerited pensions, votes for upholding a system of theft, on a great scale, which necessarily impoverishes and vitiates the great body of the people.

He who votes for a candidate, who will not pledge himself to use his endeavours to remove such evils, and to repeal the taxes which restrain the diffusion of knowledge, votes in reality for maintaining, as far as possible, the reign of dishonesty and ignorance, and all the evils of which dishonesty and ignorance are necessarily productive: he votes for the extension of poverty and misery, and for maintaining and upholding bad laws, and abuses in the public administration; for giving occasion to disorder and insubordination, and consequently for augmenting and prolonging the duration of the expense of large armies, and other coercive establishments for prolonging the prevalence of public and private immorality; and for maintaining the reign of poverty, misery, and vice, and preventing the extension of the knowledge and influence of true religion.

The elector who votes for an advocate of the West India Slave System, votes for the continuance of the most inhuman oppression; for the prevention of marriage; for the forcible separation of parent and child, and brother and sister; for the counteraction of all the charities of life; for the repression of every laudable motive to industrious exertion; for the upholding of the most debasing superstition; and for the prevention of the spread of Christian truth; for the maintenance among the Colonists of insolence, tyranny, rapacity, vice, and irreligion; and for continuing the imposition on the British people of unjust and onerous burdens, by rendering it necessary to defray the expense of preventing the Negroes from forcibly throwing off the cruel and iniquitous yoke imposed on them.

If any elector, so voting, presume to sit at the Lord's table, and "eat of the bread and drink of the cup," is it uncharitable to say, that there is ground to apprehend that he "eats and drinks damnation to himself?"

IX. The PRIEST who teaches bigotry and intolerance; who restrains free and fair inquiry; who, positively or negatively, supports or defends malificent laws, institutions, or measures; who opposes the progress of useful knowledge; who censures and reproves the poor, but flatters the rich offender; who denounces the minor and private, but who fails publicly to express disapprobation of the greater and public immoralities, is, however correct in his private conduct, an unfaithful servant of his Divine Master. A clergyman is bound, as an elector, as well as in his official capacity, to promote the good of mankind. His declining to vote, if not a piece of hypocritical affectation, ad captandum vulgus, is a breach of duty, inasmuch as he fails, so far as he is individually able, to promote good or prevent evil.

X. The author, editor, or teacher, who, wilfully or carelessly, propagates falsehood, misrepresents truth, or perverts doctrine, or who leads the multitude astray to do or uphold evil, is the most culpable and pestiferous auxiliary of "the father of lies."

Finally. The individual who, knowingly and wilfully, promotes, directly or indirectly, the enactment or toleration of unjust laws; who supports the power of the advocates of oppression, monopoly, slavery, factitious ignorance, and unequal and unjust taxation; or who interposes obstacles to the promotion" of the greatest possible happiness of the greatest possible number," ought seriously to consider that, for such conduct, he shall have to answer to GOD at the great day of judgment. November, 1832.

VERAX BOREALIS.

BOOKS OF THE MONTH.

WE have a few new works, and a host of re-prints of good and standard books to report upon. Of the original works, books of amusement form the large majority, though there are some volumes of memoirs and some poetry.

MEMOIRS.

First in our list we place those of Dr. Burney, written by his daughter, Madame D'Arblay, better known as the beloved Miss Burney of many youths of both sexes now fading into age. The author of Evelina and Camilla we now mean, with whom, if any of our readers have no acquaintance, the sooner they make one the better. The memoirs relate to a period of from forty to sixty years back, when the girlish Miss Burney saw at her mother's tea-table, or around her father's supper-board-"a table of chat, and roast apples and potatoes"-many persons whose names have since been distinguished in the world of letters or science, music or politics; and in the society to which the musical talents of her family, and her own genius and tastes introduced her, we meet some of the fashionable names of that day. The memoirs, in short, place us in London, during what may be called the Johnsonian and Thrale and Montague period, and among such persons as Burke, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Barry, Garrick, her own delightful family, and all the clever contemporary characters of that time. And these are not drawn from Madame D'Arblay's fading recollections, but carefully preserved in "a series of Letters from a young Lady," to her friends-that young lady being the author of Evelina. If not a very useful book, one of the must-be-boughts, this is a work to borrow, to while away any week of long nights between this and the Ides of March.

A

As a specimen of the work, we give the first sight of Dr. Johnson. Be it known, that Miss Burney had a mahogany box, with a slit in the top, into which she dropt her offhand sketches, and its name was Crisp. Daddy Crisp, or Mr. Crisp, the old familiar and excellent friend of Dr. Burney, and the safe reservoir of his daughter Fanny's remarks on society, and adventures public or domestic. Daddy Crisp, of whichever sex, is a most useful family appendage, where there are many daughters at the scribbling age. He is a kind of safety-valve to the expanding mind. The free communications to Daddy Crisp are among the most graceful of Miss Burney's writings. They are sparkling with the fresh spirit of youth, full of point, pleasantry, and observation. It is thus she hits off the oft-described sage and we never saw him externally in what seems a truer light.

"Now, my dear Mr. Crisp, if you like a description of, emotions and sensations-but I know you treat them all as burlesque-so let's proceed.

"Every body rose to do him honour; and he returned the attention with the most formal courtesy. My father then having welcomed him with the warmest respect, whispered to him that music was going forward; which he would

not, my father thinks, have found out; and placing him on the best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet; while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye for they say he does not see with the other made a grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding.

"But now, my dear Mr. Crisp, I am mortified to own, what you, who always smile at my enthusiasm, will hear without caring a straw for-that he is, indeed, very illfavoured! Yet he has naturally a noble figure: tall, stout, grand, and authoritative; but he stoops horribly; his back is quite round: his mouth is continually opening and shutting, as if he were chewing something; he has a singular method of twirling his fingers, and twisting his hands: his vast body is in constant agitation, see-sawing backwards and forwards: his feet are never a moment quiet; and his whole great person looked often as if it were going to roll itself, quite voluntarily, from his chair to the floor. *

"But you always charge me to write without reserve or reservation, and so I obey as usual. Else, I should be ashamed to acknowledge having remarked such exterior blemishes in so exalted a character.

"His dress, considering the times, and that he had meant to put on all his best becomes, for he was engaged to dine with a very fine party at Mrs. Montagu's, was as much out of the common road as his figure. He had a large, full, bushy wig, a snuff-colour coat, with gold buttons, (or, peradventure, brass,) but no ruffles to his doughty fists; and not, I suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going to the Blue Queen, he had on very coarse black worsted stockings.

"He is shockingly nearsighted; a thousand times more so than either my padre or myself. He did not even know Mrs. Thrale, till she held out her hand to him; which she did very engagingly. After the first few minutes, he drew his chair close to the piano-forte, and then bent down his nose quite over the keys, to examine them, and the four hands at work upon them; till poor Hetty and Susan hardly knew how to play on, for fear of touching his phiz; or, which was harder still, how to keep their countenances; and the less, as Mr. Seward, who seems to be very droll and shrewd, and was much diverted, ogled them slyly, with a provoking expression of arch enjoyment of their apprehensions.

"When the duet was finished, my father introduced your Hettina to him, as an old acquaintance, to whom, when she was a little girl, he had presented his Idler.

mixed with none of the painful feelings with which a great deal of that work must be read. Many of the letters are exceedingly amiable and interesting. The correspondence commences with the appearance of Sir James as a Medical Student, at the Edinburgh University, whither the young man is followed by the affectionate solicitude of his family; and ends but with the close of his prosperous, useful, and strictly honourable life. There is much connected with the scientific pursuits of the subject of these two bulky volumes, which would either prove a dead letter, or irksome to ordinary readers; but the familiar letters of the affectionate son, the assiduous student, the intelligent and liberal traveller, the accomplished scholar, and steady and zealous friend, who, in every relation of life, performs before us so naturally the part of a good and of an admirable man, form the materials of a work such as is not of frequent occurrence. This is a book to borrow by all means. It will be perused with much pleasure by the readers of the past generation, and with great profit, if they are so minded, by those of the present. We have seen no recent work which we would so

readily place in the hands of a youth intended for any of the liberal professions, as these memoirs.

MEMOIRS OF SIR DAVID BAIRD.

This is a narrative of Sir David's military exploits in India and the Peninsula. We have had so much campaigning history of late years, that we are become heartily tired of all such affairs. The work will be of interest to military men, and to the personal acquaintances of the gallant officer, whose life afforded no great mark or likelihood for an elaborate memoir.

POETRY.

Several small collections of original poems have appeared, and one poem, which may render memorable the month in which it is at length published,-The Masque of Anarchy, by Shelley. It is an occasional piece, written on an event which might have stirred the blood of a snail that had ever crawled on British ground-on the Manchester Massacre. It is now published by Mr. Leigh Hunt, with a

"His answer to this was imprinting on her pretty face-preface, which forms no small part of the substance of the not a half touch of a courtly salute-but a good, real, substantial, and very loud kiss.

"Every body was obliged to stroke their chins, that they

might hide their mouths.

"Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to he drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to which he now strided his way; for we had left the drawing-room for the library, on account of the piano-forte. He pored over them, shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eye-lashes from near examination. At last, fixing upon something that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and standing aloof from the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, he began, without further ceremony, and very composedly, to read to himself, and as intently as if in his own study."

The authoress of Evelina is now a very aged woman, which must at once account for, and be the apology of many things in this work which require to be judged with gentleness and indulgence. Madame d'Arblay, from long residence abroad, or her marriage with a foreigner, appears to have forgotten her own language. The style of the memoirs, except in the fresh old letters, is the most stilted and introverted imaginable.

volume. Mr. Hunt was then Editor of the Examiner, and to him the poem was sent by his friend, Mr. Shelley, for publication in that print. It was not prudent to publish it then, for reasons assigned in the preface; but it is believed the time is now arrived which "Mr. Shelley's writings have aided in bringing about—a wiser period." It is noticed by the Editor, and the fact is indeed remarkable, that the advice of submission, or, in the new language, passive resistance, given by the poet, is singularly striking as a political anticipation of what the Irish and the Political Unions have

realized.

The marshalling of the pageant, with which the poem opens-Murder, wearing a mask like Castlereagh, and followed by seven blood-hounds, Fraud, clothed in Lord Eldon's ermined gown,

"His big tears, for he wept well,
Turning to mill-stones as they fell;"

all these we pass to come to the counsels, and the admonitory and prophetic passages of the poem. HOPE is

MEMOIR AND CORRESPONDENCE OF THE LATE SIR here the agent; though at this period of the annals of Eng

EDWARD SMITH. Edited by Lady Smith. This is a work which will afford the same kind of quiet satisfaction to the reader, as the above Memoirs of the Burneys

land

"She looked more like despair, And she cried out in the air.

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Hope lays herself down in the street, to be trampled by the horses, and patiently waits the approach of Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy. A dim period of happy change is poetically described, and then these words "of joy and fear," are heard as out of a cloud :

"Men of England, heirs of glory,
Heroes of unwritten story,
Nurslings of one mighty mother,
Hopes of her, and one another,

"Rise like lions after slumber,
In unvanquishable number;

Shake your chains to earth like dew,
Which in sleep had fallen on you.
"What is Freedom? Ye can tell
That which Slavery is too well,
For its very name has grown
To an echo of your own.
""Tis to work, and have such pay
As just keeps life from day to day
In your limbs, as in a cell
For the tyrants' use to dwell:

"So that ye for them are made,
Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade,
With or without your own will, bent
To their defence and nourishment.
""Tis to see your children weak
With their mothers pine and peak,
When the winter winds are bleak :-
They are dying while I speak.
""Tis to hunger for such diet,
As the rich man in his riot
Casts to the fat dogs that lie
Surfeiting beneath his eye.
""Tis to let the Ghost of Gold

Take from toil a thousand fold
More than e'er its substance could
In the tyrannies of old:

Paper coin-that forgery
Of the title-deeds, which ye
Hold to something of the worth
Of the inheritance of Earth.
""Tis to be a slave in soul,
And to hold no strong control
Over your own wills, but be
All that others make of ye.

"And at length, when ye complain,
With a murmur weak and vain,
"Tis to see the tyrant's crew
Ride over your wives and you:
Blood is on the grass like dew.

"Then it is to feel revenge,
Fiercely thirsting to exchange

Blood for blood, and wrong for wrong:
DO NOT THUS, WHEN YE ARE STRONG.

"Birds find rest in narrow nest,
When weary of the winged quest;
Beasts find fare in woody lair,
When storm and snow are in the air;

66 Asses, swine, have litter spread,
And with fitting food are fed ;
All things have a home, but one-
Thou, oh Englishman, hast none !

"This is slavery:-savage men,

Or wild beasts within a den,
Would endure not as ye do:

But such ills they never knew."

An address to Freedom follows, full of power and spirit; but of that we can only take the concluding stanzas: "Thou art love the rich have kiss'd

Thy feet, and like him following Christ,
Give their substance to the free,

And through the rough world follow thee.
"Oh turn their wealth to arms, and make
War for thy beloved sake,

On wealth and war and fraud-whence they
Drew the power which is their prey.

"Science, and Poetry, and Thought,
Are thy lamps; they make the lot
Of the dwellers in a cot

So serene they curse it not.

"Spirit, Patience, Gentleness,
All that can adorn and bless,

Art thou let deeds, not words, express

Thine exceeding loveliness."

And now commence the counsels to non-resistance, given by the Spirit or mysterious voice. A vast meeting is to be held on some English plain, the blue sky, and the green earth, and all eternal things witnesses of the solemnity. Thither are to come

"From the corners uttermost

Of the bounds of English coast,—
From ev'ry village, hut, and town,"

all that live to suffer and to labour, with the few in palaces who feel compassion; and here they are to declare that they are free as God had made them, abiding then whatever may arrive.

"Let the tyrants pour around,
With a quick and startling sound,
Like the loosening of a sea,
Troops of armed emblazonry.
"Let the charged artillery drive,
Till the dead air seem alive,
With the clash of clanging wheels,
And the tramp of horses' heels.
"Let the fixed bayonet
Gleam with sharp desire to wet
Its bright point in English blood,
Looking keen, as one for food.
"Let the horsemen's scimitars
Wheel and flash like sphereless stars,
Thirsting to eclipse their burning

In a sea of death and mourning.
"Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest, close and mute,

With folded arms, and looks which are
Weapons of an unvanquished war.

"Let the laws of your own land,

Good or ill, between ye stand,
Hand to hand, and foot to foot,
Arbiters of the dispute.

"The old laws of England-they
Whose reverend heads with age are grey,
Children of a wiser day,

And whose solemn voice must be
Thine own echo-Liberty!

"On those, who first shall violate
Such sacred heralds in their state,
Rest the blood that must ensue,
And it will not rest on you.

"And then, if the tyrants dare,
Let them ride among you there;
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew,
What they like, that let them do.

"With folded arms, and steady eyes,
And little fear, and less surprise,
Look upon them as they slay,
Till their rage has passed away."
These are extraordinary counsellings. We have now to
see their issue.

“Then they will return with shame
To the place from which they came;
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on their cheek.

"Every woman in the land
Will point at them as they stand.
They will hardly dare to greet
Their acquaintance in the street.
"And the bold true warriors,
Who have hugged danger in the wars,
Will turn to those who should be free,
Ashamed of such base company.
"And that slaughter to the nation
Shall steam up like inspiration,
Eloquent, oracular;

A volcano heard afar.

"And these words shall then become Like Oppression's thundered doom, Ringing through each heart and brain, Heard again-again, again! "Rise like lions after slumber, In unvanquishable NUMBER! Shake your chains to earth like dew, Which in sleep had fallen on you; YE ARE MANY,—THEY ARE FEW !" Thus closes this singular poem. The high pitch of heroic virtue imagined in the great passive sacrifice enjoined, is far beyond the soarings of ordinary poets and patriots! The commentary of Mr. Hunt is rather misplaced by us here, but we must give it. "It advises," he says, "what has since taken place, and what was felt by the grown wisdom of the age, to be the only thing which could take place, with effect, as a final rebuke and nullification of the Tories; to wit, a calm, lawful, and inflexible preparation for resistance, in the shape of a protesting multitudethe many against the few-the laborious and the suffering against the spoiled children of Monopoly ; Mankind against Tory-kind. There really has been no resistance except by multitudinous protest. The Tories, however desirous they shewed themselves to draw their swords, did not draw them. The battle was won without a blow."

*

a poet-though in this piece there are sublime thoughtsbut none of his writings give the same impression of Shelley as the devoted lover of all mankind—a philosophic philanthropist, a man esteemed a visionary because the gross and selfish world was unable to follow his noble conceptions of the destinies of man.

WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST.

A book of agreeable sketches of manners, and descriptions of scenery in the wild and romantic parts of Ireland, interspersed with anecdotes, traditions, natural history, and whatever can make the work pleasant and attractive. And As a pleasant and attractive it is in no stinted degree. specimen of the work we select the following story. It wants but a little touch of the supernatural, to convert the poor seal into an Irish Prince, suffering under the charms of a hag, or the spells of a sorcerer, to make a Fairy Tale. In the Schoolmaster it shall answer a two-fold purposewe call it

A STORY FOR THE YOUNG.

"About forty years ago a young seal was taken in Clew Bay, and domesticated in the kitchen of a gentleman whose house was situated on the sea-shore. It grew apace, became familiar with the servants, and attached to the house and family. Its habits were innocent and gentle, it played with the children, came at its master's call, and, as the old man described him to me, was fond as a dog, and playful as a kitten.'

"Daily the seal went out to fish, and, after providing for its own wants, frequently brought in a salmon or turbot to his master. His delight, in summer, was to bask in the sun, and in winter to lie before the fire, or, if permitted, creep into the large oven, which at that time formed the regular appendage of an Irish kitchen.

"For four years the seal had been thus domesticated, when, unfortunately, a disease called in this country the crippawn-a kind of paralytic affection of the limbs which generally ends fatally-attacked some black cattle belonging to the master of the house; some died, others became infected, and the customary cure produced by changing them to drier pasture failed. A wise woman was consulted, and the hag assured the credulous owner, that the mortality among his cows was occasioned by his retaining an unclean beast about his habitation-the harmless and amusing seal. It must be made away with directly, or the crippawn would continue, and her charms be unequal to avert the malady. The superstitious wretch consented to the hag's proposal; the seal was put on board a boat, carried out beyond Clare Island, and there committed to the deep, to manage for himself as he best could. The boat returned, the family retired to rest, and next morning a servant awakened her master to tell him that the seal was quietly sleeping in the oven. The poor animal over night came back to his beloved home, crept through an open window, and took possession of his favourite resting-place.

"Next morning another cow was reported to be unwell. The seal must now be finally removed; a Galway fishingMr Hunt mentions, that he first heard from Shelley on boat was leaving Westport on her return home, and the the subject of Reform in 1811, while the latter was a stu- master undertook to carry off the seal, and not put him dent at Oxford, and it was on this particular, and, as it has overboard until he had gone leagues beyond Innis Boffin. proved, successful means of reform. In 1817, Mr. Shelley It was done a day and a night passed the second evening closed-the servant was raking the fire for the night-somepublished an anonymous pamphlet, proposing to put Re-thing scratched gently at the door-it was of course the form to the vote throughout the kingdom; and after pro-house-dog-she opened it, and in came the seal! Wearied posing a meeting of the Friends of Reform, who might carry this plan into execution, he devotes to it L.100, a tenth part of his yearly income, from which he had to support his wife and children, and satisfy, what he terms, ❝ large claims of general justice,” “the wants" to wit, as his editor states, "of his friends and the poor." Many of the poems of Shelley give us a higher idea of his powers as

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with his long and unusual voyage, he testified by a peculiar cry, expressive of pleasure, his delight to find himself at home; then stretching himself before the glowing embers of the hearth, he fell into a deep sleep.

"The master of the house was immediately apprized of this unexpected and unwelcome visit. In the exigency, the beldame was awakened and consulted; she averred that it was always unlucky to kill a seal, but suggested that the animal should be deprived of sight, and a third time carried out to sea. To this hellish proposition the besotted wretch who owned the house consented, and the affectionate and

confiding creature was cruelly robbed of sight, on that hearth for which he had resigned his native element ! Next morning, writhing in agony, the mutilated seal was embarked, taken outside Clare Island, and for the last time committed to the waves.

"A week passed over, and things became worse instead of better; the cattle of the truculent wretch died fast, and the infernal hag gave him the pleasurable tidings that her arts were useless, and that the destructive visitation upon his cattle exceeded her skill and cure.

"On the eighth night after the seal had been devoted to the Atlantic, it blew tremendously. In the pauses of the storm a wailing noise at times was faintly heard at the door; the servants, who slept in the kitchen, concluded that the Banshee came to forewarn them of an approaching death, and buried their heads in the bed-coverings. When morning broke, the door was opened-the seal was there lying dead upon the threshold !"

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"Stop, Julius !" I exclaimed, give me a moment's time

to curse all concerned .n this barbarism."

"Be patient, Frank," said my cousin, "the finale will probably save you that trouble. The skeleton of the once plump animal-for, poor beast, it perished from hunger, being incapacitated from blindness to procure its customary food-was buried in a sandhill, and from that moment misfortunes followed the abettors and perpetrators of this inhuman deed. The detestable hag, who had denounced the inoffensive seal, was, within a twelvemonth, hanged for murdering the illegitimate offspring of her own daughter. Every thing about this devoted house melted away-sheep rotted, cattle died, and blighted was the corn.' (

blind and miserable.

Of seve

"There is not a stone of that accursed building standing upon another. The property has passed to a family of a different name, and the series of incessant calamity which pursued all concerned in this cruel deed is as romantic as true."

diminutive, which a boy may assassinate with his birding-piece,' but the remnant of that noble stock which hunters of other days, O'Connor the Cus Dhu (Blackfoot,) and Cormac Bawn MacTavish, once delighted in pursuing.

"The offices of this wild dwelling are well adapted to the edifice. In winter, the ponies have their stable; and the kine and sheep a comfortable shed. Nor are the dogs forgotten; a warm and sheltered kennel is fitted up with benches, and well provided with straw. Many a sporting-lodge in England, on which thousands have been expended, lacks the comforts of my kinsman's unpretending cottage. Where are the coachhouses? these, indeed, would be useless appendages; the nearest road on which a wheel could turn, is ten miles distant from the lodge."

LYRIC LEAVES. BY CORNELIUS WEBBE.

This is a collection of short pieces of delightful verse, by an author who, if he seldom rises to the third heaven of imagination, never grovels, and who often pleases in no mean degree. And if to please be the end of poetry, it is here attained.

NEW NOVELS.

The only new novel we have yet seen worthy of attention is ROMANCE in IKELAND. It is a tale of the age of Henry VIII., an historical romance, of which the founda. tion is the rebellion or insurrection of Lord Thomas Fitz

ral children none reached maturity, and the savage proprie-gerald. It suggests many painful modern recollections and tor survived every thing he loved or cared for. He died comparisons. The interest of this tale commences with the first page, and is kept up with great spirit to the close. It teems with striking incident and ready invention, and will, we believe, be read with the true gusto by those who like a work full of action and plot,— —we mean, by all who depend on the circulating library for the daily bread of their intellect. This account, we feel, does no justice to this romance, and sorry we are for it. Our limited space permits only an indication of opinion; but, so far as our critical judgment goes, that indication may be safely relied on as

AN IRISH HOUSE.

In the same work we have this charming picture of an Irish home, in the wilder parts of the country.

"I have been here three days, and am as much domesticated in the mansion as my cousin's Newfoundland dog. I know the names and sobriquet of the establishment; can discriminate between Hamish-a-neilan, (James of the Island,) and Andy-bawn, (Fair Andy ;) hold converse with the cook, and am hand and glove with the housemaid. Really I am delighted with the place; every thing is wild, new, and out-of-the-way; but I must describe the locale of my kinsman's domicile.

"At the bottom of the narrow creek, you must imagine 'a low snug dwelling, and in good repair.' The foam of the Atlantic breaks sometimes against the windows, while a huge cliff, seaward, defends it from the storm, and on the land side, a sudden hill shelters it from the north wind. Here, when the tempest roars abroad, your friend Laura might venture forth and not endanger a papilotte. The bent roof is impervious to the rain the rooms are neat, well arranged, and comfortable. In the parlour, if the evening be chilly, a turf fire sparkles on the hearth; and when dried bog-deal is added to the embers, it emits a fragrant and delightful glow, superseding the necessity of candles. The long and measured swell of the Atlantic would almost lull a troubled conscience to repose; and that rural hum, which attends upon the farm-yard, rouses the refreshed sleeper in the morning. In the calm of evening, I hear the shrill cry of the sandlark; and in the early dawn the crowing of the cock grouse. I see the salmon fling themselves over the smooth tide, as they hurry from the sea to reascend their native river; and, while I drink claret that never paid the revenue a farthing, or indulge over that proscribed beverage the produce and the scourge of this wild district-1 trace from the window the outline of a range of hills, where the original red deer of Ireland are still existing. None of your park-fed venison, that tame, spiritle

a sincere one.

VALPY'S SHAKSPEARE.

A new, handsome, cheap edition of Shakspeare, to be published in monthly volumes, has been announced by Mr. Valpy. The first volumes we have seen. It is of the size and style of Murray's cheap edition of Byron, and is to be ompleted in 15 volumes. The illustrations are not originals, but etchings upon tinted paper, from Boydell's Shakspeare Gallery, which gives assurance of something better than most of the modern illustrations of great writers which we have lately seen.

EDINBURGH CABINET LIBRARY, VOL. X.-TRAVELS

AND RESEARCHES OF HUMBOLDT.-By W. Macgillivray, A. M.

A happier subject could not easily be hit upon than this abridgment, which, for this reason alone, independently of other merits, is likely to become one of the most popular volumes of this series. This sum and substance of the works of the greatest of modern travellers, and we may say of all travellers, will form a delightful book to young people, and an attractive introduction to the scientific investigations of Humboldt. Mr. Macgillivray has been successful in presenting his readers with much that is finely descriptive, picturesque, or imaginative in the voluminous writings of his author, either in a condensed form, or in the exact words of the original. In embalming the body he has not suffered the spirit to escape. It is not possible to make a

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